


Launching Paper Planes to Help Close the Distance

by Tish



Category: Fake News FPF, Fake News RPF, Real News RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-14 02:59:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/pseuds/Tish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Jon prepares to take a hiatus to shoot his film, he has a few other headaches to deal with, namely Stephen, John, and BriWi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jon didn't look up from his work as Stephen entered the office. "Oh, hi. Be with you in a minute, Stephen."

A murmured sigh was the only reply as Stephen slumped down onto the sofa. After a few moments, Jon heard a sigh, then a louder, more theatrical sigh.

He glanced up, still typing. "Stephen, I'll be finished with this in a few minutes. How ya been?"

Stephen's kicked-puppy face was wasted as Jon turned his attention back to the screen. "Jon, why are you doing this to me?"

"Doing what to you?" Jon glanced over again, exasperated. This time he caught the morose expression and stifled a laugh, "Oh. Um, you look a bit upset..."

"UPSET, JON?" Stephen moaned, working an eyebrow cock into the act. He sniffled and continued, "You're leaving me to go traipsing around the Middle East and you think I'm a bit upset."

"I'm not traipsing, Stephen. It's a film. It'll only be for a few months. I'll be back before you know it." Jon smiled, reaching over to rub his friend's arm.

 

Stephen pouted. "You're gonna catch the eye of some sultana and end up in his hareem." He suddenly sat up as Jon started giggling. "This is serious, Jon!"

Jon was shaking with laughter, "Oh Stephen, you know you're my only sultan. Want me to do a belly dance?"

Stephen looked up again. "Yes- wait. Stop mocking me!"

 

Jon's giggles had subsided to silent shaking as he watched Stephen shift position and straighten himself out. He took a deep breath. "Stephen. I swear to you, I'll be back before you know it."

Stephen's mouth twitched into a half-smile, "Promise?"

"Pinky promise." Jon smiled and offered his pinky, as Stephen fully smiled and hooked his own pinky to Jon's.

 

Stephen kept clinging onto Jon's finger. "It's just that anything could happen over there. You could get a horrible disease from a camel." He pouted, deep chocolate eyes looking into Jon's.

Jon's own eyes widened. "Wha-? You think I'm gonna get an STD from a camel?" Jon's body listed to starboard as the giggles returned, body convulsing once again.

"JON!" Stephen squeezed Jon's finger, face crinkling as tears started to form. "Stop it!"

Jon covered his mouth with his other hand, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Stephen. I promise I'll be extra careful." He smiled and stroked Stephen's hand with the pinky Stephen was still desperately holding onto.

Stephen heaved a sigh, a pout still on his face. "I'm gonna miss you, Jon."

Jon nodded, "Me too."


	2. Chapter 2

Jon walked into his office, head down in a stack of papers. Looking up, he suddenly stopped and grinned. "Oh. Would you two like to be alone, perhaps?"

Brian didn't tear his eyes from Kweli's, the dog languidly resting on Brian's lap, the newsman gently stroking his belly. "Mmm? Oh, hi. What's this thing I hear about you?"

Jon sat down at his desk and rearranged some of the papers, shrugging and smiling. "The thing? I'm doing a film."

Brian finally turned his gaze to Jon. "Don't go. Your people need you, Jon."

Jon chuckled, "You been talking to Stephen?"

Brian shook his head, "No. But if he's been saying the same thing, then for once in his life, he may be right. Don't make me spend the summer without ragging on you and making you eat ice cream on the beach."

Jon laughed, "Aww, you can watch me clutch my stomach in digestive distress any time of the year. I won't be gone that long."

Brian nodded, "Nevertheless..."

"You know, even if I'm not here, you can still come over and felch your boyfriend," Jon reached over and gave Kweli a tickle under the chin, receiving a happy tail thump in return.

"Jon, my relationship with Kweli is strictly business. We are colleagues in the news industry and like to catch up from time to time," Brian calmly retorted.

"I love you, you crazy mofo," Jon's eyes shone with laughter. "Catch you later, okay? I gotta do a thing." He stood, gathering some more papers to add to his pile and strolled happily out the door.

Brian returned his loving gaze to Kweli, muttering, "Later, homie!"


	3. Chapter 3

Jon's welcoming smile faded as Stephen stormed in. "Uh oh." He dropped his pen and sighed as Stephen practically threw himself onto the sofa.

"Why him?" Stephen wailed.

"Who him?" Jon rolled his eyes, picking up the pen again.

"That limey fruit," snapped Stephen.

"Limey. Fruit?" Jon raised a sardonic eyebrow.

Stephen scowled. "Oliver Twist! Why couldn't you have asked me?"

"You already have a show," Jon pointed out.

"I can do both! An hour long show. America is crying out for it, Jon." Stephen's eyes blazed with fury and passion.

Jon shrugged, "I can't ask you to do that. You'll exhaust yourself."

 

Stephen thumped a fist on the arm of the sofa. "It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. The boffins at Prescott Pharmaceuticals can give me some pep pills or something."

Jon rolled his eyes, sighing, "Those quacks will kill you one day. Or you'll grow another head."

Stephen pouted in defiance, "Then it'll be easier to do the hour long show."

 

Jon groaned, "Look, John can handle it fine. He knows how the show works, he's funny as fuck. He'll be amazing."

Stephen's leg jiggled in frustration. "At least you didn't give it to the Muslim. Or the Canadians. Can't trust them..."

Jon tilted his head, "Can't trust Canadians, huh?"

Stephen waved a dismissive hand, "Them, too. So polite. What are they hiding?"

Jon flipped a page over and started writing again. "It's a good thing Jason and Sam aren't Canadian Muslims, then."

Stephen snapped his fingers, "Maybe they are?"

Jon didn't bother to look up, "Yeah? Secret Muslims?"

Stephen nodded slowly, "It makes perfect sense. They drink, they don't wear the jibjab." His voice lowered to a whisper, "Nobody would suspect a thing."

 

Stephen continued to ponder, oblivious to Jon's silent giggles. He suddenly pounded the desk, nearly giving Jon a heart attack.

"Jon! Is Oliver a Muslim, too?" Stephen's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"No, Stephen. I don't believe he is," Jon was nearly biting his lip to stop from laughing.

"Are you sure? He's nearly as tall as bin Laden?"

Jon stared, then slowly sank his face into the desk.

"Um. Jon, are you okay? If you're ill, you won't be able to leave the country, you know?" Stephen reached out to soothe Jon's shaking shoulder, only to recoil as Jon sat up again, giggling.

 

Stephen just glared at Jon. "If that's how it's going to be, I'll take my leave." Stephen stood up, lips thinning to almost disappearing in his rage.

Jon snorted a final laugh and reached out to Stephen's exiting form, "Oh, come on, Stephen! I'm sorry!"


	4. Chapter 4

"Well, of course, the first thing I'm doing is adjusting the seat so it's not compensating for a dwarf," John said, staring into the camera, ready for the rehearsal. He decided to set his tie a little straighter.

In the midst of checking her script, Jessica laughed, "Don't you be dissing my Pocket Jew, Mr Oliver!"

"He really is so tiny, isn't he? Minuscule." John observed, holding his finger and thumb slightly apart to empathise the point. 

Jessica nodded her agreement, adding, "I do hope you're going to continue the fine tradition of doodling cocks on your scripts, John."

 

Something caught John's eye and he nodded, "Speaking of cocks..."

"I HEARD THAT!" Stephen bellowed from the wings of the stage. Striding forward, he wagged his finger and stopped in front of John. "This is an abomination and you and your British teeth should not be allowed anywhere near the host's chair."

"I'm going to host the show, not eat it, Colbert." John rolled his eyes. "Speaking of which, how about you eat this?" He held up a middle finger at Stephen, much to Jessica's cackling delight.

"FUCK YOU, YOU SMURF FUCKER!" Stephen stomped his feet.

John clutched his chest. "Oh! oh! Insulting me for being in a multi-million dollar grossing film! I'm mortally wounded. _In my bank account_."

Stephen glared, "Ha! You still wouldn't be welcome at my country club."

 

Jessica clutched her hands and swayed her shoulders back and forth alluringly, "How about me, sugar? Can I come to your country club?" The sarcasm in Jessica's voice was lost on Stephen, as he blanked John from the conversation.

"Of course, my dear lady. We only discriminate on the color of one's money. Oh, and in light of your recent wrist injury, please accept this WristStrong bracelet. From me to you." Stephen took off the red band and gallantly smiled as he handed it over.

"Oh, how sweet. You broke your wrist a few years ago, didn't you? How'd that happen?" Jessica snapped the bracelet on and admired it.

John snorted derisively, "He was twatting about, dancing in his studio. Slipped and fell off the podium!"

"SHUT UP! That's not true!" Stephen fumed.

"Oh, so you didn't get a freight elevator door slammed on it, then?" Jessica laughed. "Damn, that must have been embarrassing. Falling over and snapping bones like an old man."

"I'M NOT OLD! I'M NOT!" Stephen shook his fist at her.

John made a placating gesture with his hands, "Be careful now, you might hurt yourself."

"Oh someone will get hurt, and it won't be me," the steam was practically rising from Stephen's ears.

 

A voice from the studio P.A. system drew everyone's attention, "Stephen, do you mind? We need to do a rehearsal."

Stephen scowled and pointed at the heavens, storming out, "You're On Notice, too, Chuck."

Chuck's voice floated down, "Cool. Put me under Jane Fonda, please."


	5. Chapter 5

Stephen's haunting of the TDS offices had entered a new stage. He gloomily sulked around from room to room, tailing after Jon like a lost puppy. Jon had been apologetic, sadly rebuffing him as phone calls and meetings tore him away.

One afternoon, Stephen's senses tingled, and he went to investigate, finding himself at Jon's office. There, on Jon's couch sat Brian. A spoon dipped into an ice cream tub and soared into Brian's mouth. He slowly licked and sucked the cold treat, opening his eyes as Stephen rushed into the room. Perching on the edge of the sofa, Stephen gazed as Brian took another spoonful and held it aloft.

"This is good, Colbert." Brian nodded in approval.

Stephen almost orgasmed, "Of course it's good. It's mine. It's America and Freedom."

Brian smiled and offered the spoonful, which Stephen accepted into his mouth with joy. Brian snuggled closer. "There's nothing better than a comforting spoonful of love and friendship."

Stephen sighed and rested his head against Brian's shoulder. "Mmm. Maybe I misjudged you, Williams. I mean, sure you're a whore for the liberal elite America hating media, but you've got taste in ice cream."

"Why, thank you, Stephen, I appreciate that. " Brian tried not to shake too much as he laughed into another spoonful of AmeriCone Dream.

Fidgeting against Brian, Stephen groaned, "Stay still and feed me more ice cream."

 

The warm sunshine filed the room as Brian kept giggling, feeding Stephen as he slowly fell asleep. From the other side of the couch, Kweli yawned and sprawled out over both their laps, finding the perfect bed.

Brian sighed and chuckled to himself, happily trapped until an intern could rescue him.


	6. Chapter 6

Things were hectic, but running smoothly. Jon had been counting down the days, and now the last few hours were upon him. He hadn't seen Stephen for a while. Strange, could he have given up and gone back to the TCR studio, and heaven forbid, got some of his own work done?

Jon chuckled as he walked the corridor, seeing Stephen's self-pitying eyes, his pouting lips, his wheedling voice. Damn, he was starting to miss him already. Stephen would get used to it, of course he would. He just loved the attention. He'd love the welcome home even more.

 

As Jon entered his office, he stopped, a smile creeping over his face. On his couch, Stephen lay fast asleep. A pile of 47 ocean grey t-shirts made up Stephen's pillow. A further 23 steel grey t-shirts were draped over his slumbering body. Paper planes littered the floor near the trash can, a testament to Stephen's aeronautical engineering skills.

Jon had to admire Stephen's sneakiness in intercepting Jon's clean laundry, hoping he was comfortable enough. If things got desperate, Jon could always volunteer his 72 other t-shirts in varying shades of grey.

 

With a soft kiss to Stephen's forehead, Jon returned to his desk, pen in hand for some last minutes notes. 

A quick check of the clock, and he was up again, ready to rush out. Lingering at Stephen's side, he gently shook Stephen's shoulder.

 

With a murmur, Stephen curled his body like a cat and opened one eye.

"I, er, gotta go. See you soon, Stephen." Jon leaned in and kissed his cheek.

"Now?" Stephen's voice was thick with sleep. "Um, I picked up your laundry for you."

"You did, too. Thanks." Jon's smile made Stephen smile in return.

"Bring me back a nice present?" 

"Sure will."

Stephen nodded, "Just make sure you get back."

"Go back to sleep, Stephen. My shirts aren't pressed enough." Jon smiled again.

"They're soft and I can smell you on them," Stephen's eyes gleamed with love.

"You'll be able to smell me on you when I get back." Jon winked.

 

Stephen reached out a hand, placing it on Jon's. "Thank you, Jon. Go make it a good one, 'k?" 

With a final kiss and a smile, Jon took his leave, pausing to take a last look as Stephen fell asleep again.


End file.
